


Routines

by LostPoe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostPoe/pseuds/LostPoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes one morning and follows through on his regular morning routine only to find it has changed without him knowing.  Short drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routines

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a Tumblr post for my friend Ticktockclockwork! Its just a short little thing :3 Hope you all enjoy!

The morning air was cool against his skin as he shifted in bed. Blankets were pooled comfortably around his body, a sort of cocoon of warmth. However; there were things to be done, so bed lounging wasn’t a fees able option. So this was how John’s morning routine started. Normally it would begin with turning his alarm clock off, usually waking before it rang but old habits die hard. Then there would be the quick pick between jumpers and trousers; whether they matched was always an after thought. Next step was to head down stairs, bypassing the common area just in case Sherlock was actually sleeping. God forbid he woke the other when he finally allowed his body to rest. It was like waking a mother grizzly by kicking one of her young, a build of furry and claws; or clipped angry insults on the detectives part. The next logical step would be tea, no morning could start properly without it. Filling the kettle, grabbing the desired type of tea and beginning the brewing process; always in that order. Toast came next, his Doctor half reminded him breakfast was an essential to a proper healthy diet. Tea would be fixed and toast would be donned with its appropriate spreads. After that he would get the most recent paper, sit in his chair while he basked in the early morning sun. Yes, that was how Johns ideal morning would start.

“Sherlock, Tea is—” John’s voice cut off, his voice dieing in his throat instantly. Upon looking at the bare state of the common room; the blondes heart sank. Empty.

Letting the accumulation of emotions pool up on him, John sucked in a ragged breath. Two mugs, two slices of toast on two separate plates, one jar of jam and another of nutella standing at the ready. When had this become second nature? When had his routine; that had been one he followed many years before coming to Baker Street, molded to actively involve the enigmatic detective. What alarmed him more was that it had been three years, three long soding years since the bastard jumped from that roof top. Tears unwillingly welled up in his eyes as hands clenched at his sides. Three bloody years and the thought of Sherlock being absent from his life still brought him to tears. Also the fact he had the moments where everything would lapse and he figured the man was just in the other room on the couch. Damn him, damn him and his stupid battle to prove he was the smartest man in London! Now he was all alone with nothing much left to live for except for the simple cowardly need to exist.

Faintly behind him, he heard the sound of a knife dragging across toast then the sound of someone taking a soft bite. Johns shoulders went rigid as his whole body stood stock still. Slowly he turned around, blue eyes widening quicker then they had in years.

“If… if I could John….. I’d really like that tea now….” came the deep baritone from around bits of toast.


End file.
